


Welcome to Desert Bluffs

by Majikthise



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Desert Bluffs, His version of Carlos is called Anton, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin Centric, Kevin/Anton, M/M, Mind Control, PTSD, Profanity at one point a lot, Spoilers for 19a and 19b, Takes place like a year or so after 27 First Date, Tentacles and third eye sortof, Unreliable Narrator, but there is comfort!, just has much more hurt like abunch, majorly angsty, memory loss and distortion, perscription drug use, sick! Kevin, torture as a means of control and repression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin did not start out this way. He was trained for it, medicated for it. He has been forced and manipulated to overcome any instincts that screamed the wrongness of the town and what happened in it.  But something happened. Something awful. Kevin has been told that he got "extremely ill" and the multiple surgeries, copious prescription drugs, and corporate training seminars were to help him. But through the haze of pain and re-education flashes of reality begin to seep in. The mind can be tricked, erased, re-programmed to forget and ignore. But the heart can't and won't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything is Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own any of this and not doing it for any profit. Other than the beating hearts of my victims.
> 
> Written to fill this prompt from the Night Vale Kink Meme:
> 
>  
> 
> [click here for prompt](http://nightvalecommunitykink.dreamwidth.org/822.html?thread=407350#cmt407350)
> 
>  
> 
> Italicized words are Kevin's direct thoughts.

Fragmented images varying in hue and saturation stab his through his senses, like an ice pick jammed in the eye sockets during a transorbital lobotomy. Long before Strex Corp made all such surgeries obsolete with their high-grade pharmaceuticals.

But still the pain jabs him, garbling his senses. He grabs what he presumes must be his head and cradles it. After a while, he notices that his hands, still clutching his head, feel wet and slick with a coppery smell. _Blood._ He moves them close to his eyes, squinting, barely able to see through the pain. But still he can't miss the blood. _Blood._ He begins to breathe much faster. _Blood. My fault. It was my fault. My fault._ He is now hyperventilating. _Blood. What have I done?_ The answering spike of pain clearly states, “Don’t ask these questions.” He purples out.

 _Gone._ The pain has vanished. Kevin opens his eyes only to find that he is in his recording studio. _Was I here when the pain started? How much time has passed?_ A warning throb puts an end to this line of questioning. Plus Strex Corp in their all-seeing wisdom has fixed time so it runs better now. Everyone knows that. Of course, now you can't rely on any time keeping device except the official Strex Corp model. _Who needs the hassle of all those clocks anyway?_ Kevin sees from the big Strex clock on the wall, you know the one with motto written on it, "Your Time is Our Time", that he has fifteen minutes until he goes on air. That clock doesn’t actually tell the time just a perpetual countdown to on air time and then while he is on it counts down the time till he is off again.

He looks at his hands, which really are covered in blood, but then again, so is everything else. _Just the way it should be._ He chuckles to himself at how scared he had felt earlier over what? _A little blood?_ Well, this is his first day back to work at the actual studio, since the illness. And management told him that he might feel a bit off. The bandage wrapped around his forehead itches greatly, but he dares not touch it.

It really feels good to be back. The studio has always felt like home to him and he was in the hospital for? _How long was I there?_ The pain starts to pick up again, so he begins to go over his introduction for today. It is in front of him, in his handwriting. He just doesn't remember writing it. He looks it over and edits it until Vanessa shows up smiling and nervously holding a mug of coffee.

Today, she is a tall, slender woman of African descent. He smiles warmly. _That Vanessa! Always changing her look._ Except her name badge always stays the same, fraying yellow with blood splatter on it.

She sets the coffee on a part of the desk where the blood isn’t as thick so it won't splash up, “Here’s your coffee, Mr-“

“Please, call me Kevin.” He interrupts smoothly. “That is who I am to all my listeners in this great city of Desert Bluffs. Why should it be any different for you?”

She looks down, smiling shyly. She then glances at the clock, five minutes to go. “Let me know when you need anything, Mr-I mean Kevin.” As she leaves Kevin shakes his head fondly. No matter how she looks Vanessa is always sweet, but she acts so nervous. She really needs to be prescribed some Strex Corp anti-anxiety meds or up the dosage if she already is on them.

**ON AIR**

“Ever been given a second chance? Of course, you have! But have you really thought about it? Second chances are what we call them. But how many chances have we had really? Certainly more than two! So whether you are on your fourth or four hundred and forty-fourth chance; Welcome to Desert Bluffs!

Hello, listeners! Kevin, here and my does it feel good to be back in my humble little studio. Those of you who listen to my show will know that I have been sick for quite some time now, but thanks to management, Strex Corp, and my insurance I am back and better than ever! Able to broadcast this to you from my studio for the first time in –ah- too long. Of course, I only missed one day of actual work. My management along with our biggest sponsor besides lovely  listeners like you of course, Strex Corp, saw in their infinite wisdom and care to not completely sedate or anesthetize me during the multiple surgeries I underwent in order that I keep broadcasting to all of you out there. Wasn’t that thoughtful of them? Anyway, that is enough talk about me. Let’s go to traffic.”

After his show is over, he notes that Vanessa never came back after he sent her to report on the crop of corn that Peter Johnson, you know the farmer, had created with help of Strex Corp's latest genetically engineered seed. _The little scamp!_ She probably went out for a yogurt at one of the city's many yogurt shops and forgot to come back. She is always doing things like that.

A knock on the door sounds and as Kevin looks up the man is already entering, Ian from management. Management is always so nice. Constantly coming out of their offices to converse with regular folks like Kevin and Vanessa. Keeping tabs on everything they did, said, ate, drank, people they spoke too, that they kissed, that they loved, you know the usual sorts of management things. Ian is in his early 30s, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that has to be expensive because it is not stained with blood like the clothes of everyone else.

He plasters a huge hollow smile on his lips and walks toward Kevin who rises to greet him. “Kev! Hey! Welcome back to the studio. I heard all about your illness. How you feeling now?”

“Great!” Kevin instantly replies.

"That is so good to hear." Ian's expression then switches from a smile to a look of concern as seamlessly as one changing tracks on a CD. “Okay, we know you have been out for a while, but we expect you to be working at full capacity and if there are any issues, just let us know! We want to help you as much as we can, Kevin. Just don’t think you can hide anything from us, okay?” His smile widens.

Kevin’s forehead and back sing out in shared pain. Everything is fine though and he would never have any reason to be anything other than honest. _Right?_ “Of course! I just want to thank you and the rest of management for your kind and caring treatment of me.”

“Of course, you are our best investment, after all.” At that Ian gives a genuine grin, but lurking just behind his teeth are the jagged and dark shapes. “Now, don’t let us down!” With that he turns and leaves. Once again Kevin feels himself in extreme amounts of pain. He fumbles for his bottle of Existence Dullers and takes a handful. _How strange._ He felt fine. Yet this pain keeps appearing out of nowhere.

 _  
_Before he leaves for the night, he goes to visit Khoshekh, the huge and fluffy black dog that had been found mysteriously hovering in a fixed location in the mens' bathroom near the sink. The moment he opens the door, the dog who was sleeping wakes up opening his three glowing ice blue eyes and lets out bark sounding somewhere between a chainsaw and a child's dying scream. "Aww, did you miss me?" Kevin smiles. "I missed you, you big floating lump!"  Kevin has always been a cat person. But something about Khoshekh bites right into his heart.  He comes closer stepping on the live grass that replaced the tile floor, so that when Khoshekh does his business, they just need someone to come in with a plastic baggy and remove it while the rest soaks in the grass.  Khoshekh leans out as far as he is able and licks Kevin's face. Kevin strokes his large fluffy head for quite some time.

Then eyes avoiding the mirror, Kevin touches the center of his forehead and feels the pus weeping through the bandage. He dares not touch the multiple bandages that line his back, fearing that they must look even worse. However, he was told that every night the Strex Corp doctors will enter his home and change all the bandages while he sleeps like a baby and not even wake him up once.  _How thoughtful!_

Popping a few more pills and patting Khoshekh on the head one last time, Kevin heads home for the first time in an uncertain amount of days or weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I subscribe very much to this theory found on Tumblr, http://theshapefromgrovepark.tumblr.com/post/58360665164 Which is how I am primarily shaping my view on Desert Bluffs. I am happy for any comments or constructive criticism. More to come!


	2. A Peaceful Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I switched up my tenses for this chapter and decided I like present tense better. Hope it doesn't make you too tense, pun intended dear reader. And I made the italicized thoughts first person. This story is becoming longer and darker than I originally intended. I will be editing the first chapter to jive with this one. All comments and Kudos are welcome as always. Thanks to everyone for being so supportive so far!

Kevin enters his first floor apartment and for a moment thinks he has stepped back into the hospital. The smell of disinfectant and heavy-duty cleaner saturates everything and his entire apartment has been scrubbed, dusted, vacuumed, and polished. _How thoughtful management is! Cleaning up a mess that was entirely my fault to begin with! They really are too good to me._

He slips off his moccasins by the door and lets his feet sink into the thick chartreuse shag carpet. He then shuffles to the kitchen looking forward to something other than the exquisite hospital faire of ostrich eggs smothered with caviar or Peacock marinated in lambs blood with a side of penguin tongue. Really it was all too rich for him. He opens his refrigeration unit and pulls out the milk. But before he can open the cabinets, to grab some nuts and dried fruit to throw in a bowl together, he stops dead in his tracks. Staring at kitchen drawer and cabinet handles.

Instead of having normal handles, every cabinet and drawer has a small silver ring in the center as if it was created for a child. He reaches for it with his hand and it feels like opening a drawer in a toy kitchen. _Did management replace the handles too? Had they always been there? Why don’t I-_ The pain came back washing over him and pulling him into an undertow of nausea and dizziness. He stumbles to the main room where he collapsed on one of the many bean bag chairs lying about. The moment his back hits the vinyl he gasps. His back flares up in pain as well. He digs in his vest pocket and takes out his medication. Taking the pills for pain, dizziness, and nausea. Almost instantly he feels better, although his appetite has now left him. He does have another pill that could remedy that as well, but he decides it would be better just to go to bed.

It feels like a stranger has worn his skin and then given it back to him and now it doesn’t fit quite right. He shakes himself. He needs to get a grip. He is perfectly fine. _So management redecorated my kitchen? Some people have to pay money for something like that. I should be grateful. I mean – I am grateful. Of course I am._

He heads to his bedroom and goes to the closet to change into his nighttime attire. He strips from the waist up revealing large, circular bandages running in parallel pairs from just below the base of his spine to halfway up. The bandages are so thoroughly soaked with blood and mucus they look black and stand out against Kevin’s bone white skin. But with no mirrors in his house, Kevin notices none of this.

He opens the closet door and sees his clothes. They are all blood encrusted. All of them. Which is perfectly normal. Many or possibly all jobs in Desert Bluffs deal with daily contact with copious amounts of blood. As he decides what to wear, something shoved towards the far corner catches his attention and he pulls it out. A pristine white lab coat. The moment he touches it the center of his forehead begins a low throb of pain. He turns it over in hands. Nope, no blood anywhere. Perhaps, he had gotten it and then never worn it. He puts the strangely unbloodied garment on and it hangs off of him, cartoonishly big. He could almost wrap all the way around himself and button it up the back. What on earth had possessed him to buy such a large lab coat, or why even buy a lab coat at all? There’s a faint yet agonizingly familiar smell drifting up from the coat and Kevin buries his nose in the starchy material and breathes deep. The burst of smell travels up his nose to his brain where he instantly recognizes as -

A supernova-like burst goes off in mind. He falls to his knees, hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically in extreme pain. He rips the bandage of his forehead and claws into the squishy, gaping hole in the center, ripping and tearing out fleshy pieces. Desperately trying to distract the pain inside his mind with pain outside. It fails to work and he just feels horrid pain on both sides. He lets a gut-wrenching howl. 

The lab coat suddenly feels warm, wet, and heavier. A thick meaty smell wafting from it. He opens his eyes and the coat is soaked with fresh blood, fresh enough to steam his glasses. He rips the coat from his body and flings it against the closed door. It lays there, blood pooling around it as if it were a dead body inside it. And then suddenly there is. A man lying face down, once perfect hair now matted in blood. _How did I know his hair was perfect?_ Despite the terrible pain, Kevin crawls over to the dead man. He cradles him, turning him over but the man has no face, like it has been edited out of existence. Still Kevin clutches him. Words float through his head in a language he does not know. Somehow though he does know that this is his fault. The blood, the body, everything. He begins to weep tears of ash that float down and land on the matted and tangled locks.

*******

They find Kevin passed out on the floor clutching a lab coat, covered in his own blood emanating from the now open and raw wound in his forehead. They descend upon him, not so much doctors as shapes that shift in the night. Kevin hears their words to each other somewhere in the back of his mind, although he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

They squabble, scratching and clawing, amongst themselves with blame over the forgotten lab coat as they remove it and vanish it to parts unknown. Muttering words like, “most valuable project”, “re-training needed”, “upgrade medication to level 79.3”, and “You had one job, Ian. Cleanup! And you leave something as potentially lethal to our work here as that scientist's lab coat?!” They patch Kevin up and subject his brain to some deep electronic pulses to help redo the damage they have already performed on his memory. The shapes are gone before early morning light . All except Ian, the one responsible for the lab coat. Before they leave they swarm Ian, the power flickers off and when it comes back on they have dematerialized. Ian slowly fades becoming just another shadow in the room, although if Kevin looked closely he would never be able to find what was casting the shadow.

*******

Kevin awakes tucked clinically in his bed. The events of last night are hazy and fast receding into the dark. _Something about a lab coat covered in small silver rings? No, that can’t be right._ He shakes himself and is surprised to find that the action did not set off a headache. He feels his head and it has be rebandaged and stapled? Yes. Stapled to the sides of his head. A note on the bedside table reads, “Please do not remove your dressings again without express consent. Thank you, Management.” Management always goes that extra step in helping out.


	3. Things Are Looking Up

Kevin gets ready for work feeling blank. He embraces this feeling with warm familiarity. He looks at the kitchen as he walks out of his bedroom, but then immediately averts his gaze. _I guess I’m just not very hungry. I’ll grab a coffee on the way to work._

He hops on his motorized scooter and heads to the nearest Starbucks. He gets himself the usual wake-me-up coffee, a Grande black eye made from 100% pure Columbians. The sun beats down on him as he drives the rest of the way to work. It is the one time of day that he ever feels close to being warm anymore. He is not really sure he ever felt warm to begin with and certainly management has assured him that his perpetual chill has nothing to do with copious amount of drugs they make him take and is totally normal. No matter, it just feels so refreshing to be outside enjoying his beautiful little town. Watching the happy citizens going about their daily business with their forced smiles and shaky hands.

Upon entering the office, Vanessa immediately gets up to greet him. Today she is a twenty-something man with blue eyes and dirty-blonde hair. As always, the name badge remains the same. _My isn’t ~~she~~ he trying a new look today!_ Kevin thinks, mentally corrects his pronouns. Vanessa hands him a cup of coffee.

Smiling Kevin holds up his Starbucks' cup, “Looks like I beat you to it today, Vanessa. Why don’t you keep that one for yourself and make me another so I can drink it during the weather.”

“Oh that’s very kind of you, Mr.-“

“Now Vanessa, I really do appreciate your polite manner, but I believe this is the 475th time I’m telling you to just call me Kevin.” Kevin interrupts, his tone never deviating from charmingly pleasant.

“Ah-right. Of course. Sorry, Kevin.”

“That a boy!” And with that Kevin turns toward his booth.

“Oh, uh, Kevin!” Kevin whirls back around on spot almost balletesque.

“Yes?”

“Management told me that they would like to see you in training room Alpha. Immediately.”

Kevin purses his lips very slightly, “Next time, tell me that first thing, okay? I hate to keep such good hardworking folks waiting.”

Vanessa shifts looking petrified, before quickly masking his expression again, “Yes I will. My apologies, Kevin.”

***

“Do you know why we’re doing this today, Kevin?” Brian, Assistant Director of Personnel, asks while sitting comfortably in a state-of-the-art Strex Corp Deluxe BussinessMan Chair.

Kevin shrugs or does his best to approximate one given all the restraints that have placed on him and all the wires they have plugged into him. “Follow-up protocol?”

“No, no.” Brian’s voice is the vocal equivalent of the calm you feel falling asleep in a snow bank right before you freeze to death. “You had a bit of an episode last night.”

“Oh dear! I don’t remem-“

“Of course, you don’t. We made sure of that. Today, I am here to test you on what you do remember. So I am going to ask you a series of questions, okay?”

“Okay.” Kevin agrees as if he really does have a choice. He lies reclined in what looks like a dentist chair with a couple trays full of nasty looking equipment off to the side. His wrists, ankles and neck have worn leather restraints around them and wires are stuck into and protruding out of his head and neck. He feels the electric current running through his body during the whole process, like a million snakes slithering through him trying to root out small rodents to eat. Every so often full out electric shocks will cause him to convulse. His memory of these sessions is always extremely hazy afterwards, but he has been assured that this is perfectly normal.

“Let us begin. What caused your illness?”

 _Oh good an easy question!_ “ I was held down by one of those radioactive four-armed deer that seem to be attracted to the Strex Corp distribution center and it tried to – to eat me.” Kevin shuddered. “And although I managed to escape, apparently their saliva causes you to become very sick and hallucinate. Which was why I needed all those surgeries and re-training.”

Brian smiles, “Perfect. Do you remember what happened when management first showed up to your apartment and tried to take you to Strex Corp General Hospital?

Kevin hesitates a beat, “I-I attacked them. I am so incredibly sorry. I remember thinking that they were –hmm- taking away something incredibly precious of mine. But I can’t-I can't remember what I thought it was.”

“Let’s not dwell on that.” Brian says hastily. “It’s part of your hallucinations and will not help you recover. Do you remember what weapons you used?”

“I remember moving so fast it was as if I had many limbs, many appendages all attacking at once and I remember a beam shooting from my forehead, I think?  None, of that makes any sense does it?” The electricity spikes causing him to convulse, which he attempts to do as quietly as possible in order to hear Brian’s response.

“Well, occasionally those bit by the deer will hallucinate they have many limbs as a response to the deer’s own multi-limbed nature. However, hallucinations are inherently nonsensical and you should not try to derive any meaning them. Do you remember anything else about your attack?”

Kevin shakes his head. “I just feel so bad for hurting and killing innocent people trying to do their job. I wish I could do something to make amends.”

“You are doing something by answering these questions. You are the voice of Desert Bluffs, Kevin. Those men you killed were just delivery men. Sent to take you to the hospital. There is no need for guilt. How would the people of Desert Bluffs feel if they heard a guilt-ridden voice tell them the day’s events each day?”

“They wouldn’t feel good that’s for sure.” Kevin agrees after a brief pause feeling mildly better as another sharp jolt of electricity courses through him.

“Now we move on to some harder questions. Do you know the man in this picture?” Brian holds up a picture of a man. He is not tall or short or thin of fat. He has tanned skin, slightly messy brown hair, and a goatee. Brian’s thumb obscures some the forehead and head, but Kevin can see a man with violet-colored eyes and a rather nice if slightly hollowed-out smile. And if he were able to look closer he would see what might appear to be a black cloud hiding just out of sight in the corners of this man’s eyes.

“That’s me! Back when I had just started school to become a radio announcer. My, don't I look so young?”

“Perfect. And now tell me who this is?” Brian holds up another picture, again his thumb obscuring a portion of the head. The man’s eyes are black as charcoal. These eyes are ones that feel no sorrow, no love, no joy, no remorse. His face, sallow and pasty. He is much too thin and his cheeks are sunken in almost like a skeleton’s. His hair is thinning and white. His jagged smile is broken and false. “No! He is hideous! Monstrous! Can you put that picture away, please?”

“Of course.” Brian smiles. “One more.” Brian holds up a picture. A faceless scientist in a lab coat. Kevin laughs, “Is this a trick question?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, that person doesn’t have a face! So how could I tell you who they are?”

“That’s what you see here? A man without a face?” Brian repeats slowly.

“Uh yes. The face is blurred like it has been censored. Isn’t that right?” His voice gets higher at the end, like it does anytime he is too nervous or excited.

“No, no you are right. That was perfect.”

“Perfect.” Kevin murmurs. "Perfect... perfect." He says again with reverence as if quoting long forgotten scripture. Suddenly he convulses in extreme pain.

“Ah, I see we still have some issues to work out.”

The testing continues for the next three hours.


	4. All is Well...at least I think it is... right? I mean, Of Course It Is! All is Perfectly Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their support and their delicious comments. I truly am having a blast writing this, way too much fun it should be illegal. 
> 
> Italics are Kevin's thoughts and bold are his subconscious thoughts which appear briefly.

Despite the fact that everything has been going so well lately and that he feels so much better after his re-training session, Kevin isn’t into his broadcast very long before he feels incredibly ill. It starts as a vague nausea, perhaps because he has had nothing in his system besides coffee. In truth, he isn’t exactly sure the last time he actually ate anything. He takes a pill for nausea during one of the commercial breaks and nibbles some trail mix Vanessa, now an overly bouncy teen with curly red hair and green eyes, brings him before he even has to ask for it. Just like every good intern should be able to do.

Then the headache hits, he takes a pill, and then the rows of bandages on his back hurt almost feeling like they are slithering and writhing around. Another pill. Then the pain gets more creative becoming an existential angst that threatens to darken his otherwise cheery radio demeanor. Kevin decides to take one of every pill just to play it safe. The pain subsides, but still he feels it hovering like Khoshekh in the distance.

He plays the weather. _Almost done, if I can just make it through the rest of the broadcast._ He distractedly stacks the molars strewn over his desk into little towers until they eventually fall over splashing back into the blood. His broadcast is going great! He just can’t let management know that he feels slightly ill. They would be so disappointed in him. Bravely he soldiers on. However, right as the show is about to end disaster strikes.

The animal viscera on the soundboard in front of him gurgles and boils. Kevin interrupts the signals, sighing to himself. _Today’s show just turned into a long one._

**ON AIR**

“Well folks, for those of you lamenting the upcoming end of my broadcast as I always do, I have some good news. It looks like I am going to get to spend more quality time with all of you. This is because Strex Corp has just initiated Code Lilac. Go over your pamphlets and avoid the areas listed in the color lilac. Remember Lilac is a paler, lighter purple then say fuchsia. We don’t want any costly mix-ups like what happened to some of you last time with the colors yellow-green and green-yellow.

I’ll keep us all up-to-date on the situation and let you know when we can return to our daily routines. This is not an inconvenience, Desert Bluffs, but an opportunity. Take a different route to work, try a different Starbucks than the one you usually go to, talk to someone you haven’t before. Take this chance to spice up your routine a bit.

But remember do not approach anyone you think might be a scientist or a government-mandated official until Strex Corp has dealt with them appropriately.  Obviously, we don't just let in any strange person waving a badge....anymore. /Right behind his eyes flashes of bright pain hit like lightning bolts./ They might cleverly try to cite Strex Corp for something as esoteric as causing gross environmental hazards and wastes. All the while absconding with our town’s most prolific and profitable company's secrets and technology.  We can't trust scien-scientists, unless their badge reads, "Strex Corp".  /Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose willing the pain to recede, as he continues/   

*****

Finally hours later, the broadcast ends.  Code Lilac is lifted and the scientists who infiltrated the town are presumably being held and taken care of in the appropriate manner. For a moment Kevin just sinks back into his chair, utterly spent. He made it through the broadcast, but by the skin of his second row of teeth. He is alone in the studio now, everyone has left and Vanessa never came back after he sent her to warn some civilians milling about to close to a lilac area.

Kevin gets up slowly, stretching and popping his back. He attempts to casually walk out of the booth, but realizes he is still standing rooted to the spot. The mere thought of going “home” fills him with a nameless terror. He’s suddenly sweaty, pulse-racing, yet immobile. He tries to move a few more times, nothing.

“Maybe, I’ll just go visit Khoshekh, before I go home.” He says to himself in order to convince his limbs to move. It works and soon he is in the men’s room. Khoshekh greets him with a friendly screech owl-like bark and Kevin scratches him right above his third eye, where he likes it. He then turns on the sink and fills his cupped hands with cool water splashing it on his face in an effort to cool and calm down.

He looks up and sees a ruin of a man staring at him from the window. Black hollows for eyes, pallid skin and a wicked countenance. He jumps back and so does the man. “Stay away from me!” He yells. The man mouth’s the same words as Kevin says them. Kevin continues to warily watch the foul beast of a man as the man watches him.

Khoshekh curiously sticks his nose in front of the window to see what Kevin is yelling it. And Khoshekh’s nose is reflected back in front of the evil man’s now startled face. “What….” Kevin slowly touches the bandage stapled to his head; as the man does the same with his own stapled bandage. He touches the smooth reflective surface, just as the man does, their hands touching.

Suddenly his brain kicks back into gear. A _mirror?_ Not a window at all, but a mirror. “That’s me?” He squeaks out, horrified. This image before his eyes, this man is the same one Brian had shown him in that picture. _That was me in that picture. Why was he so happy when I didn’t recognize myself? What did they do to me? What have they done to me?_

He shakes with anger and a whirlwind of undefinable emotions as he punches the mirror as hard as he is able. It cracks ever so slightly, so he punches it again. More cracks. Again he punches it and again and again. Blood splatter goes flying everywhere, even onto Khoshekh’s muzzle which he licks off a bit too avidly. Kevin succeeds in breaking the mirror, but does not stop till every bit has fallen and broken into even smaller pieces on the sink and ground.

He looks at his bloodied knuckles dazed. Bits of mirror cling to the blood and are embedded in the skin. One catches his eye reflecting the black void back at him. He thrusts his hands in the sink and scrubs and scrubs till all the mirror bits are gone. He then deflates, sinking down on the grass floor directly above Khoshekh. He hugs his thin legs to his chest and rests his forehead on his spindly knees.

_How could I have missed what was happening? How could I have gone so long without noticing? I look like something that would be used to scare away monsters. No wonder he could hardly look at me towards the end._

His last thought causes his head to snap up, “He?” He questions aloud. “Who?” Who had he just referenced in his own mind? It was there! Right there! And then gone like waking from a standard nightmare. Except this was definitely the nightmare he was in right now. The pain in his head takes this moment to come back in full force. He hears a whimpering and looks up at Khoshekh who is looking down at him and he realizes the whimpering is coming from his own mouth.

Kevin can’t go home. Not yet. He just needs some time to collect himself. Of course, he has to go home. They will be coming to clean the bandages. So he can’t stay long. _Just a little longer. Then I’ll go home._ Khoshekh sensing his distress lowers a big furry paw till it is resting on Kevin’s head. He leans into the touch which is the last thing he is aware of before falling fast asleep.

********

He is awakened by a harsh lights and discordant sounds. He is in one of the training rooms, restrained, and plugged in. He hears his own voice and realizes he is already talking to them. Everything feels blurry and his hands hurt. He vaguely remembers punching something. _Oh dear, I destroyed company property!_ He is still talking in a calm voice to someone, but he is not sure what he has been saying. Destroying company property is expressly forbidden. He is probably going to have to attend the Safety Seminars, now. He shudders internally.

A pulse of electricity and a voice snap him back together so he finally sees the man before him clearly. It is Brian looking as impeccable and blood-free as always. Brian is watching him and sees the flicker of recognition, “Ah there you are. We keep finding you in odd situations, Kevin. It is beginning to get a bit redundant. Can you kindly explain what happened?” Kevin knows they aren’t alone in the room. Shapes hover behind Brian but cannot be made out in the darkness. Or perhaps the shapes are actually the darkness itself.

Kevin feels muddled, but somehow the answers come to him as if planted there, “I think I had another episode.”

“I’ll say. You destroyed something in the men’s bathroom. Do you recall what it was?”

“A window. There was this creature outside and he wanted to hurt me, so I attacked him.”

“Correct you did destroy a window, but there was no creature, not really. It is all part of the paranoia brought on from the deer bite. As I’m sure you recall paranoia is the biggest symptom of the illness.”

Kevin nods, glad it wasn’t real. He remembers feeling terrified.

“So if you thought some creature was out to get you, why did you stay in the bathroom? Why not go home?”

Somewhere deep, deep in Kevin’s subconscious a message goes out. **Management cannot know about not wanting to go home or they most likely will send us back to the hospital.** The answering response is, **But are weak. We cannot lie to management for they see almost all with their drugs and electricity and hypnotic voices.** In unison: **We need something true just not the exact truth.**

Brian raises an eyebrow at Kevin’s slight hesitation, “Khoshekh.” He finally blurts out. “I didn’t want to leave him in case the man came back. Plus I scared him when I broke the window. And he seems lonely.” The electricity hums through Kevin’s body almost accusingly but then recedes satisfied.

Brian tilts his head and smiles unnervingly, “Oh I see. And do you feel lonely Kevin?”

Kevin has never thought about this before. He has always been alone. Sure he knows everyone in town; he’s the Voice of Desert Bluffs after all. But he has never been in a relationship. Not unless he counts that one disastrous date with Floyd Butterman. And he is sure if Floyd was not still in a vegetative state that he would not refer to it as a date either.

Lonely.

The word suddenly bears down on him like the void itself. Swallowing him till all he can do is choke out a sobbed, “Yes!”

While Kevin is trying to slow his breathing and keep back the tears, he vaguely hears Brian conferring with shapes behind him. He can’t make out words just murmurs, clicks, and hissing like air being let out of a tire. Finally Kevin addresses him again, “I need you to be absolutely honest with me, Kevin. Are you still able to work?”

“Absolutely! I’m compliant with the program and have been doing really well. It’s just when I have these episodes I get confused. All I want to do is broadcast.” Kevin practically pleads.

“After conferring with the group, we are keeping you on air. Training will occur every day and we will have an intern escort you to and from work, so in case something happens we will be the first to know.”

Kevin lets out a breath, hardly able to believe his good luck, “That sounds fabulous. Thank you all so much.”

“Honestly, we feel that some of the blame may reside with us on this We pushed you back to work very soon and with less structure than we should have. But we will make it up to you now. Plus, we are even going to give you a present!”

Kevin blushes then stutters, “Really? A present? I haven’t done anything to earn a-“

The words die on his lips when he sees three ice blue orbs glowing from the door frame, slowly it hovers in the room. The image resolves to that of a giant three-eyed animal. “Khoshekh?” Kevin says unbelieving. “He’s my present?! How?”

Brain nods smiling, like a father to his mutant, genetically engineered son. “Yes he is. And Strex Corp was able to fix his stationary floating condition somewhat. He still floats, most of the time, and occasionally he will have bouts where he is stationary again, but he is yours. Now you will have something keeping you company at home.” And no reason to do any of this ever again is the quite clear message underneath the positivity of these words.

After the addition of Khoshekh things in Kevin’s life fall back into a semblance of a normal routine. Khoshekh adjusts wonderfully to having a home and being mobile more often than not. Re-training helps Kevin focus on what’s real and what is silly, leftover deer paranoia. Even his wounds are healing nicely. For the next few weeks everything is as Management thinks it should be. But even the most terrifyingly controlled and deviously constructed realities must come to an end at some point. 


	5. I don't think anything is okay...do I even think? I'm just a chapter title, how can I even be expected to know anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but I really wanted to post this. Since it involves like plot development and such. More will be on the way soon! Also, we meet Anton!!
> 
> Italicized words are Kevin's thoughts. And any Spanish I have put in italicizes to differentiate it.

It is dark outside when Kevin awakens curled next to the warm body of a softly sleeping Anton. Anton, who is always so warm. While Kevin never feels anything but an ever-growing chill. He smiles, curling closer. He loves it whenever Anton spends the night. Even if Anton’s original reason for coming over last night was more of a scientific than personal reason.

****

Anton comes over to Kevin’s after the end of the broadcast. The usually reserved scientist is practically flailing, “Remember, a few weeks back when you gave me your medication so I could test it?”

Kevin nods grimly. Of course, he remembers. He remembers hating having to lie to management the next day, telling them, of all things, that he had dropped them in the sink. They believed him, only because he never lies. But he still felt sick doing it and feels slightly sick remembering it.

“Well, I tested those meds on the rodents and pigeons in my lab and they ALL developed black eyes, loss of pigment, and then do you know what happened?” Anton doesn't actually pause to see if Kevin has a response before plunging ahead, “Well, I don’t either! They all began transforming into, uh something else, but NONE of them survived the transformation. You know what this means?” This time he pointedly looks at Kevin, waiting for a response.

“That you need more lab animals?” Kevin asks hopefully, wanting to end this uncomfortable conversation soon.

Anton growls in frustration and grabs Kevin kissing him again and again. Their faces inches apart, he speaks slowly words controlled, “No. It means that you must stop taking their medication, Kevin. I mean I have only been here a year and a half and you look utterly different.” His eyes drop from Kevin’s gaze as he whispers, “It’s scaring me. I’m a scientist, but I don’t know, I can’t figure out, I’m not sure what will happen to you.”

Kevin tries giving a sympathetic look, but the way Anton shudders and takes a step back means it probably came out wrong again, “But dearest Anton, I have to do what Strex Corp tells me including taking the medication. They are our parent company and it’s in my contract.”

Anton sighs, knowing defeat is imminent. This isn't the first argument they have had of this nature and he is sure it won't be the last. “They are hurting you! Can’t you just break your contract? Or quit? Or go on strike? Or re-negotiate?" He wants to continue, but Kevin’s face is shifting and anyone not familiar with Kevin would say that he looks like he is about strike and kill. But all Anton sees is concern. “What’s wrong?”

Kevin shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “Well, it’s just, and I’m not trying to change the subject, really I'm not. But management came in today and asked me to…refrainfrommentioningyourexperimentsonair!” He finishes his sentence in one hurried breath then flinches away.

Anton is confused for a moment then all too clear, “Why? Is it because they know that I’m right? That they are hurting people, the environment, you? This is why I'm scared Kevin! I've been trying to tell you for ages that they are up to many things and all of them sinister.”

"I'm not saying you're wrong, _mi amor_. Or that they are right. You have proven to me with science time and time again how right your are, like with those flying piranha turtles. But my hands are tied. And you told me you didn't like how I acted after re-training and if I don't listen to them, I will certainly get re-training. I love talking about the work you are doing and informing all of Desert Bluffs about it. I mean if you really wanted me to, I could continue-"

"No, don't do that! I don't want you in trouble." He rubs his face, eyes red-rimmed, "But you are! Every second you spend there, you are in serious trouble!" With that Anton breaks down crying and Kevin wraps him up tight in his arms and tentacles.  He knows Anton wants him to do something, but he just doesn't see that there is nothing Kevin can do. He understands that Anton is doing all of this because he loves him and it just makes Kevin's heart swell all the more.  Kevin carries him to his bed, where they hug and kiss and cry till both are sound asleep.

*****

But now it is early morning and Kevin has some more time to enjoy Anton’s presence before he has to be in the station. He buries his head in Anton’s hair and inhales his scent deeply. Anton rolls over groggily and begins kissing him. Kevin wrinkles his nose, “Ugh, morning breath!” He backs away slightly to find it is not Anton at all but Khoshekh, who is trying to lick his face, “Eww, dog breath!” He whines.

Then the world literally  flips on its axis, but Kevin doesn’t notice this because he is frozen in shock and confusion. He stares at Khoshekh uncertain as to what just happened, “Anton?” he calls out. Khoshekh looks around expectantly, letting out  an annoyed hiss when no one answers. _No one will ever answer._

Kevin backs up further falling off the bed and immediately jumps up pacing back and forth speaking aloud. “Oh Great Mountains that guard us! How could I just forget beautiful, sweet Anton!!”

 _I know how._ His thoughts bitterly supply. Kevin stops realizing with horror that this all his do with Strex Corp. Anton was right as usual, so deadly right. He puts his hands over his face. He can’t forget Anton again. And if he goes to re-training today.....they will know. And they will make him forget. He does not know how he knows this, but he is absolutely certain of it. And he is absolutely certain that he will not let this happen again. He needs to find Anton. He has some vague suppressed feeling that he did something, something bad to-

“NO!” He shouts, shaking his head. “No, he is okay and I will find him.” He looks at his clock. He has three hours till intern Vanessa will be at his house. Thankfully his bandages have already been changed.

So a three hour head start to go…..where? Since his trip to Europe when he was younger he hasn't even left the city of Desert Bluffs. Where would he go? Who would he go to? He begins to despair till a thought stops him.

 _Wait, I'm the voice of Desert Bluffs! No one knows more about this town than I do. So who would help me?_ He mentally goes through lists and lists of people discarding each one till he finds her. Yes, of course! How had it taken him so long. He grabs a few items and tosses them in his bag. He grabs Khoshekh’s leash and thankfully Khoshekh is mobile. Together they run and hover quickly into early morning light.


	6. You're still here? Or am I there? Not that it matters. Just run. Run now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I misplaced the notebook that my rough draft was in, spending a few days panicking, before my mother found it. She understands how important fanfiction is, thank goodness! So the next chapter will not be as long in coming! Thanks again for all your support! As always criticism, kudos, questions, comments are all things I pray for in my bloodstone circle.

With countenance grim but full of determination, Kevin stands on the front step of Grandma Josephine’s with Khoshekh hovering nearby. He is poised to knock, when she throws open the door, startling him.

“Hello!” she says, dark eyes twinkling.

“Ah, Hello.” Kevin says recovering quickly.

“I’ve been expecting you.” She holds open the door wider, “Come in, the both of you.”

Kevin and Khoshekh step into her small, but not cramped living room. They eat the salt-less cookies that she practically forces on them. Or rather Khoshekh eats them as Kevin feeds his to the dog when he thinks Grandma Josephine isn’t looking. They both, however, drink the purple lemonade. Finally when they are settled, Kevin asks, “How did you know that Khoshekh and I were coming?”

“Oh, the angels told me.”

Kevin’s eyes go wide, “But everyone knows that the angels work for Strex Corp! They are probably getting ready to hunt me down as we speak!” Kevin glances around as if looking for angels looming in the shadows getting ready to strike. Grandmother Josephine catches his gaze and holds it, her face serious.

Then in a low voice she says, “What Strex Corp has…. Those are no angels.”

A shudder runs through him at her words, “I’m sorry I brought all my problems to your doorstep, Grandma. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just think you’re the only person here that can help me.”

Grandma Josephine simply laughs, “Oh dear, don’t you worry about me! I imagine I’ll be just fine. Besides I have the real angels right here. Now tell me what the matter is.”

Kevin laughs nervously, unsure whether or not to believe her, “Well, it’s just everything!” He throws his hands up in the air. “Strex Corp, their medication, management, my appearance, the surgeries, Anton…. Do you remember Anton? Was he real? Cause I’m not so sure anymore. This morning I remembered his face, but it’s gone again. Lost in the background noise.”

Grandma Josephine smiles slowly, “Yes, I remember him. A very bright, respectful young man and he adores you endlessly.”

For a moment Kevin feels a stirring of hope, “He does? He’s real? What’s happened to him? All my memories, all my re-training, I don’t know! I can’t trust anything! I only know if I found him, I would trust him. If he’s… well if he isn’t…” He trails off unable to make himself finish the thought.

Grandma Josephine nods sympathetically, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what’s happened to him. Strex Corp is very good at keeping secrets.”

Kevin nods trying to look optimistic but failing utterly. Grandma Josephine leaves him for a moment, before returning and showing Kevin a photograph of himself. Despite being taken fairly recently, Kevin thinks he looks a lot less like an abomination in the picture. His eyes are black, yes, but less black holes of perpetual torment and more the black of looking down a dark staircase into a creepy basement. His skin has some actual color and his hair is thicker and closer to dirty blonde than pure white. And on his forehead, his hand goes automatically to the bandage he now wears, is an eye. This eye is open revealing a bright purple iris almost completely covered with what looks to be a black cataract.

“A third eye? I had three eyes?” He looks helplessly at Grandma Josephine.

“Yes, you did.” She says sadly. “But do you see anything else?” Her voice changing to a tone of expectation.

“Umm, no? Well, just some blur beside me. Like something was there and then it wasn’t. Like it’s been erased….. Oh Gods, that’s Anton isn’t it?”

“You always looked the most human when you were around him.” She answers softly.

Kevin lets out a noise somewhere between a wail and a whimper. “They really did erase beautiful and perfect Anton! How can I ever hope to find him, if I can’t even see him?”

Grandmother Josephine tenderly folds Kevin’s hands around the picture before letting it go herself, “You will remember. Have some faith. The only erased what was in your head, not what is in your heart. Keep this picture. Look at it, you will see him soon.”

“Thank you.” Kevin mouths.

Grandma Josephine points to the half-full tote bag dangling from Kevin's wrist, “Is that all you brought with you?”

“Yes? I figured it would be best to travel as light as possible.”

She makes a “tut-tut” noise before saying, “And I suppose you didn’t think to bring with you any food or water?”

Kevin strains for a moment on the word “food”, which is fast becoming a foreign concept, “No, I didn’t really think I would need it.”

“What about poor Khoshekh here? Floating for days with you in a harsh desert with nothing to drink or eat?” She scratches the dog above his third eye, causing him to wag his tail which rocks his fluffy body back and forth in the air.

“Oh yeah, of course.” Kevin says sheepishly. “I wasn’t really thinking.”

Grandma Josephine pats him on the hollow spot where his cheek should be, “Well, lucky for you I was.” She lifts a hefty picnic basket with ease. “I packed this for you. Erica helped.”

“Erika?”

“No, no Erica. With a ‘C’.”

“Oh, Erica with a ‘C’.”

“All angels go by the name Erica.”

“Right, right.” Kevin realizes he must be more out of it than he thought since that was literally the first thing he learned in seventh grade transmigration studies.

A very tall being enters the room wearing a crocheted sweater. Kevin can’t determine a gender, if the being even has one. Nor can he stare at the creature for more than a half-second before his eyes burn like they are on fire. The being doesn’t seem very comfortable in Kevin’s presence either.

“Grandma,” The being says in melodious voice, albeit with a slight distortion as if coming through a static-filled radio. “Erica and I saw Vanessa getting ready to walk to Kevin’s apartment.”

“Great, thank you Erica!” Grandma Josephine claps her hands together, “That’s your cue. Time to leave.” She thrusts the picnic basket at Kevin, who upon grabbing it almost topples over, marveling at its weight and how someone as seemingly frail as Grandma Josephine could pick it up so effortlessly. She gestures to him to leave out her back door, the one that leads directly to the Sand Wastes. “The angels can hide you from prying eyes for a while anyway. Remember to go at least three hours before you stop. You need to put as much distance between them and you as possible.”

“And where exactly are we going?”

“Oh you know. Out there.” She gestures vaguely. “Don’t worry you’ll find it.”

“Find what?”

“Everything. Now give your ol’ Grandma a kiss.” He does and she notices ash has begun to float from his eyes. “Come, now. This isn’t an ashy-eyed goodbye or anything. I’ll see you again!” She gives him a kindly shove out the door. “Now, Scoot!”

Before he can even turn around and thank her, the door is shut and her lights are all off, except for that circle of holy-looking light coming from just above her house. Once again Kevin and Khoshekh are back out in the rapidly brightening morning. Kevin looks at his watch to gauge the time, realizing belatedly that all his watches only countdown the time till his show is on. He notes that he has eight hours till he is due to be on. He breaks out into a run headed for the Sand Wastes, Khoshekh keeping pace next to him.

****

After only an hour and a half in, Kevin feels utterly fatigued. And he regrets, boy how he regrets leaving all his Strex Corp medication at home in his valiant decision to never take another pill ever again. With his back hurting, forehead throbbing, outlook desperate, he wishes in vain that he had at least brought with him some Existence Dullers or Existential Angst Killers, or even some Tylenol. Part of him, the part that scares him when he looks in the mirror urges him to go back home. _Just show up late to work and let them erase all these pesky problems right from your mind._ But the part of him that remembers Anton will not allow it. He thinks he can hear black helicopters in the distance and quickens their pace.

****

At the three hour mark exactly, he collapses onto the sand. He wraps his cloak tightly around himself. Even in the growing heat and the fact he hasn't stopped once since they started, he still only feels a freezing, stinging cold. His stomach also pains him and rumbles in what he can only assume is hunger. He opens the picnic basket and finds neatly wrapped food items in colorful Saran Wrap. They are labeled with their names and there are even two dog bowls for Khoshekh, which Kevin instantly fills with water and Science Diet dog food and places them next to him. Khoshekh goes for the water first, hovering so his feet are just grazing the surface of the sand, he laps deeply at the liquid.

He then unwraps a sandwich for himself, determined to eat. He sniffs it, but can’t tell from the blood what type of meat it is. He sniffs again, opening it up only to discover that the sandwich doesn’t even contain blood at all. Nor is the meat rancid. He shrugs eating it anyway. It tastes fresh and juicy and it is devoured in no time. He goes for another sandwich, when his body rejects the first one quite violently. When he is done heaving, he wipes the blood and food particles off his face. Kevin isn’t sure if it was the sandwich in particular or just food in general that upset his stomach.

*****

Eight hours in. His watch fills with blood that cracks through the face and flows onto his arm, burning him. Kevin yelps and struggles to get the watch off, flinging it away and wiping the acidic blood off onto his cloak. He should be on air, right now. This is the first show he has ever voluntarily missed. It stings his heart very much like the blood just stung his arm. “Welcome to Desert Bluffs.” He mutters morosely. Kevin has never thought of himself as anything but a reporter. Not being able to do even that feels like the icing on the typical Desert Bluffian birthday cake, beautiful and utterly toxic.

In fact, the whole situation is just terrible. _It just sucks. It sucks. It really sucks. It FUCKING SUCKS!_ Kevin jolts at the harshness of his own thoughts. He never curses. Like, never ever. In fact, he is certain that he did not even know any curse words.

Suddenly he is back in re-training room Omega but floating above and looking down on his prone, bloodied, and much younger self strapped in the chair. The words on Brian's StexPad, read "ERASED" in giant red Trebuchet font. He talks cheerily to a one-way mirror, "As you can see all curse words, illicit phrases, and language have been eliminated from Kevin's brain. We have already successfully rearranged many of his neural pathways so that the bloody is now associated with the benign. Evil and good are one in the same. In fact, good has been removed entirely. You may be asking, how can we have evil without good? Well, we can't." Brian smiles revealing too many teeth.  "This is just the start. This subject with his voice's dulcet and calming tones will be our voice controlling and numbing the masses."     

Kevin comes to on his knees in the sand laughing hysterically, ash floating around him as it flies from his eyes. They had  thought they had erased everything. That he was theirs. Khoshekh hovers a few feet away looking uncharacteristically nervous. He can’t stop laughing these ragged and hysterical sounding guffaws. Khoshekh makes a couple of odd yelps. After a few more minutes have passed, Kevin is able to control himself more or less. He looks at the dog and chuckles, “No, no Khoshekh. Don’t worry about me! This is a good thing! I remembered ‘Fuck’!” He reflexively puts his hand over his mouth and looks around before realizing the absurdity of what he is doing and starts laughing again. “Don’t you see? They thought that they had erased it! But I remember fuck and shit and cunt and bitch and asshole and prick and dammit!” He finishes his tirade, blushing profusely but still giving a lopsided smile. “So if I can remember ‘fuck’ then I know I will be able to remember sweet Anton’s face!”

He jumps up yelling to the beaming sun, “Today fucking sucks and I love it!” before doing a little dance and cleaning up the dishes. He grabs the picnic basket and breaks into a run with renewed energy making his way towards the canyon that can be seen far off in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more background to my view of Desert Bluffs. Okay, so having spent so much time, so so much time listening to 19a and 19b my conclusion is this: Night Vale and Desert Bluffs are sorta like mirror-image towns. Similar people and things while at the same time not similar at all and creepily different. During the sandstorm, if you were outside you got an exact double. So that is why Larry Leroy, out on the edge of town, saw his double in Night Vale and his mirror/parallel/whatever version Lawrence Levine, out on the edge of town development, also saw his exact double when he touched the sand from the storm. So if Cecil or Kevin had been outside at all I think they would have seen an exact double of themselves. As it was they saw each other, which was probably the worst case scenario, for Cecil at least. Anyway, what does this all mean? Who knows! I don't want to create any real overarching theories here, that gets in the way of the fun. But wanted to show you the angle I am writing from!


	7. Even the Sand Wastes Have Seen Less Blood Spilled Than a Desert Bluffian Elementary School Playground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took much longer to write then its length belies. The Spanish is brief, but if it is wrong do tell me. I took Latin and German in school, which have not been useful in my fanfiction yet.

Hidden just outside of Desert Bluffs reach, is a city of camouflaged tents. These tents house an army of almost one hundred guerrilla-style fighters, led by two commanders. This army was created out of those unfortunates that Desert Bluffs used then tossed aside and those that Strex Corp ruined with their technology and left for dead.

Inside one of these tent is the first commander wearing his signature lab coat. He sits hunched over an ancient-looking radio. He twists and turns the nobs trying to pick up a broadcast as locks of prematurely graying but beautiful hair fall in his eyes. He brushes them away absentmindedly. In fact, his hair is now closer to gray with black streaks than the black with gray streaks it had been, oh not so very long ago. He fiddles some more with the nobs. Static static static static. He mutters under his breath, mostly curses in a mixture of English and Spanish. Then he hits the radio a few times for good measure. Still nothing. The man looks over to where he flung his wristwatch after it had burst into flames approximately three minutes ago. It’s still smoldering. Three minutes have passed and still he only hears the sinister hiss of static.

Finally a low hum, then a crackle. A scratchy-voiced teenage boy is talking. “Hel-Hello, Desert Bluffs. This is Intern….Vanessa speaking. I’ve been asked by station management to take over the show for Kevin today. No need for concern or alarm, listeners. He just needed some routine tests performed in relation to the deer-bite incident and everything will be right as rain tomorrow.

First, the news. Have you seen all those black helicopters headed toward the Sand Wastes? Why they are out and about today running their little motors and spinning their little blades to give us all some more wind! Isn’t that thoughtful of them? So if you see a black helicopter, close your eyes and feel that breeze.”

As he is listening intently to the radio, a woman comes bounding in. She is dressed not in a lab coat, but desert fatigues. She is covered head to toe in straps for multiple types of weapons although most of the holsters are empty. She is tall with dark skin made even darker by the harsh desert sun. He immediately lowers the volume on the radio and turns to meet her intense gaze. Her eyes once were solid black pieces of the what felt like the void itself. Now thanks to countless experiements by Anton, they look more like they have a dark cloud passing over them. Most people still find them unnerving if they stare at them for too long.

“Our Radar shows that Strex Corp has launched almost all its known helicopters and even many of the angels. They are all out combing the Sand Wastes. Leaving their base without its major defense system. We are not sure their objective. It is possible that it is an elaborate ruse set up in order to entice us to-”

Anton shakes his head silencing her, “I don’t think this is a trap. We have never been much of a threat to them and they know it. The worst we have done is forced them to create a color code in order to shut down whatever sections of the town we attempt to infiltrate. On a good day we might get them to initiate something as high as Code Lilac, but even then we rarely do more than disrupt traffic. They have always remained calm and in charge. But I was just listening to the news and you’ll never guess who is on today.”

The woman cocks her head quizzically, “Who?”

“You are.”

And with that the man turns the volume back up and as if on cue the scratchy-voiced teen says, “Hello again, this is a reminder that what we just aired was a pre-recorded paid advertisement for our parent company, Strex Corp. So although the voice you just heard was Mr- I mean Kevin’s, he is-he is still not here. I am Intern Vanessa and-

“WHAT!!!!” The woman practically roars. “Who said that little dweeb, barely outta his adolescent could be me! I was Intern Vanessa years before he was and even then I knew how to talk without stuttering. I mean that imposter wouldn’t last even an hour in the Sand Wastes let alone the months and months that I LIVED there. Hell, would still be living there if you hadn’t found me when you were escaping.”

“When I was forced to escape.” Anton interrupts gloomily.

“Right, when Kevin forced you to escape. So what sort of catastrophe must have happened for them to think they could let this pathetic kid on the air?” She looks at Anton still seated below her. He is giving her a rather frightening grin. “Oh” she says realization dawning. “Oh, they wouldn’t put on ‘Intern Vanessa’ unless there really was a catastrophe.” She says using air quotes for the name “Intern Vanessa”.

“Exactly!” Anton is up in a moment and is a flurry of white lab coat and movement. “This is our chance Vanessa! Your chance to get back at them for the life they stole from you. And my chance to get Kevin back. This is what we have worked so hard for, what we have trained for and trained the soldiers for. I believe that Kevin has either been kidnapped or attempted to escape and is right now somewhere in the Sand Wastes. So that is where I am going to lead my battalion.

Your battalion is going to head straight to their main building as mine gets into position in the Sand Wastes. Then I want you to hit them with everything. Cause mayhem. And just when the helicopters and angels get the emergency call to head back to base that is when my battalion will attack. As always our plan remains the same. Gather as much damming evidence from them as possible and burn everything else.”

She clicks her heels smartly and salutes, “Yes sir.”

As she leaves the tent she peers back through the flap, “Anton?”

“Yes?”

“If anyone can save Kevin, it’s you.”

Before he can respond she is already gone, leaving Anton alone with his radio. The volume still turned down, he whispers to it solemnly. _“Mi amor. Voy a rescatarte. No tengas miedo. Esta vez nada me detendrá”._

********************

Early morning light sees Kevin and Khoshekh eating breakfast. Kevin doesn’t eat more than half of his interesting sandwich and chews slowly. He feels pride when he is able to keep it down, well able to keep most of it down anyway.

They had spent the night huddled near the entrance of the canyon listening to the gunfire while the night sky periodically lit with the bright flashes. There isn’t much action anymore, just clouds of dark smoke rising from helicopters crumpled on the sand like dead crows. Kevin doesn’t know who is fighting whom, but he does know that despite the warfare raging around them Khoshekh had refused to enter the canyon that night with its green pulsing glow and eerie sotto voce bass humming. Kevin himself feels no trepidation in wanting to enter the canyon, but he had to concede that he is not so reliable when it comes to detecting threats anymore, or even what constitutes a threat.

As the day grows brighter the green pulsing becomes less noticeable. Kevin finally persuades Khoshekh to enter the canyon. The humming grows louder, but is no less indistinguishable as they walk in. The high rocky walls are covered in blood, which causes Kevin to breathe a sigh of relief. This place cannot be part of Desert Bluffs. In Desert Bluffs, the outside is idyllic while the inside is covered in blood, not the other way around.

Khoshekh snuffles and keeps pawing at his nose, almost as if he doesn’t like the air. Kevin breathes in deeply, feeling the normal sting and ache of reoxygenation. For Khoshekh’s sake he picks up their pace a bit.

Every now and then they hear scuffling behind nearby boulders and crevices, as if someone is following them but keeping out of sight. Kevin doesn’t concern himself with it, because he knows they can’t be Strex Corp. Strex Corp would never stoop so low as to skulk or hide in plain daylight.

Every few minutes Kevin takes out the picture that Grandma Josephine gave him from the breast pocket from one of the multitude of shirts he is wearing. He looks at it long and hard. Still nothing. He sees himself and a swirling shape next to him that could be anything. _Except that it isn’t anything! It is my precious Anton! If only I could see him again!_ He sighs, putting the picture away in what has quickly become an all-too-familiar routine.

With little difficulty, they make it out of the canyon and see a few small buildings not too far in the distance. Kevin smiles his first real smile in a long time. It looks out of place with the fathomless black of his eyes and his ghostly skeletal features. Unencumbered by an understanding of just how frightful he looks, he takes some more confident strides towards the town before a sound like that of a man getting his toenails ripped off stops him. He looks, and it is just Khoshekh whimpering. The fluffy dog looks back at him and makes a paddling motion in the air with his front legs, but goes nowhere.

“Oh, they did say you would get stuck occasionally. Let me help you!” After a good fifteen minutes of pushing and pulling, the large animal remains in the same spot. “Hmmmm, I don’t want to just leave you here, but maybe one of the locals can help,” he says gesturing to the buildings. “Do you mind? It will only be for a few minutes.”

Khoshekh’s ice-blue eyes glow, his hair bristles, and he lets out a venomous hiss.

“Great!” Kevin beams. He pats Khoshekh on the head a couple of times, despite the dog’s protests. He balances a bowl of water precariously on the closest ledge. Kevin gives Khoshekh a once-over and is pleased. The dog is protected in the shade of canyon and now properly hydrated. “I’ll be back in less than two wags of the tail!” Kevin says, merrily winking at the dog before turning on his heel and heading to the signs of civilization in the distance.

Kevin soon realizes that the building he is closest to is the back of a Pinkberry. He chuckles absently, wondering if they have his favorite flavor, Strex Corp Crunch. On second thought, he hopes they do not.

He sees a man standing off to the side in front of the shop. The man is hunched over in a white lab coat. He is talking into a handheld recorder and is studying a crack that waves back and forth in the sidewalk. Kevin’s heart stops. He hits his chest a few times with his fist till he feels it stutter, then start back up again. The man turns and looks in his direction, and it takes all his strength to keep his heart pumping. This man has dark, delicate skin and the most beautiful black hair with distinguished, if premature, gray around the temples. And suddenly the world is clear. It is Anton. _ANTON! Handsome, gorgeous Anton!_ Kevin remembers the face as if he had just kissed it. Anton does not see him and turns back to study the crack once more. Kevin breaks into a full-out run towards his lost love.


	8. Welcome to Night Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we are finally in Night Vale! Also, as a reminder Cecil and Carlos have been dating for a little over two years now and have been together the entire time. Except for that week that Carlos was sucked into the alternate dimension, hidden in his takeout container from Big Rico's pizza, but he doesn't like to talk about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So wow! I have reached the 10k mark! I cannot believe it. I am notorious for starting fics than abandoning them, but this one won't leave me alone. Which is fine by me! Once again, I love you all and your support, criticism, critiques, compliments, anything and everything mean the world to me! Thanks, you lovely lovely readers, you!

Cecil and Carlos are taking a stroll around town. It’s their default activity. Partially because being around Carlos always gives Cecil excess energy. And partially because Carlos still marvels at how the streets constantly change, making it difficult to know exactly where one is going.

****

“It’s just like the staircases at Hogwarts!” he had exclaimed, the first time he noted the phenomenon with Cecil present. To this Cecil had given Carlos a blank look. “You know, Harry Potter?” Carlos tried again with the same results.

Almost all of the books that Carlos read were nonfiction, but Harry Potter was his secret guilty pleasure. He decided he needed to properly educate his boyfriend on the series. To his surprise, Carlos found that the Harry Potter series was one of the few not banned by the City Council. However, Cecil refused to read the books, insisting instead on watching the movies since that was more of a couple’s activity.

As they reclined together on Cecil’s bean bag couch, ready to put in the VHS, Carlos thought that maybe Cecil would believe the movie was a documentary, or at the very least take all the wizarding stuff in stride. He would soon find out how very wrong he was.

“But owls? Really? They are harbingers of volcanic destruction or an outbreak of lice! Not messengers. Where do they even make this stuff up?” Cecil asked, laughing deeply at the movie’s glaring error.

Seeing the futility of getting into a debate, Carlos responded, “Well, owls are messengers in this world-just go with it.”

But Cecil was unable to suspend his disbelief. He interrupted constantly, saying things like, “Ha ha! Goblins! But we don’t have them anymore since the City Council rounded them up. And they certainly weren’t any good with money, not unless you count eating it.”

“Ugh, everyone knows wands don’t really work. Why does nobody use their bloodstone circle?”

“Talking hats! That’s just absurd.”

At this particular outburst, Carlos, who was doing his best to ignore Cecil’s commentary, could no longer keep silent. “But Cecil, that fedora you wore last week talked!” Cecil considered this. “Well, it had burped and said ‘excuse me’. It was just being polite. Would you have rather it said nothing?”

Carlos shook his head, stunned. However, Cecil took the gesture as agreement.

“Exactly! I once had a pair of boxers that was quite rude, and I put that one right into the City Council’s Underground Cellar for Disrespectful Garments.”

For some masochistic reason, which Carlos decided not to examine too closely, he did watch the entire series with Cecil. He only suffered one minor meltdown during _Order of the Phoenix_.

Upon seeing the Thestrals, Cecil exclaimed, “That isn’t what Thestrals look like at all! They are definitely more lizard-like.”

Carlos snapped, more harshly than he intended, “Threstrals aren’t even real! I mean, none of this is! It’s a work of fiction and CGI. You do know that, right?”

Cecil, unfazed at the outburst, nodded in agreement. “Exactly! With all these gross inaccuracies, it can’t be anything other than fiction! However Thestrals, I assure you, are quite real. We have a pair at the Zoo. Oh! We should go there sometime on a date!”

Carlos smiled. It was hard to not get swept up in Cecil’s enthusiasm. After that he found it much easier and more fun to join in with Cecil rather than attempt any serious discussion. Poking fun at the Dementors, who were obviously pail imitations of the hooded figures, and laughing at the student’s sad excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts education. “I mean, not one spell or incantation to defend against wheat and wheat by-products? Do they want the students to be killed?”

*****

The sun is out, shining with an obstinate brightness. Carlos is sure it has been at the high noon position for at least two hours now, and he is burning up. Even Cecil looks a bit flushed, although it could be that fact that he and Carlos are holding hands. Whatever the reason, when they reach the Pinkberry Cecil raises the eyebrow above his third eye and points a tentacle towards the building. Carlos nods his assent, then stops in his tracks.

A crack in the sidewalk catches his attention. It’s writhing as if alive. Light and void spill from it as it undulates. “Wow, look at this!” Carlos exclaims excitedly, pulling Cecil closer to him. “This isn’t just a crack in the sidewalk, but a crack in space-time itself.”

Cecil smiles. Whenever Carlos sees the scientifically unexplained, he always looks like a small child who has just received their first bloodstone circle. Not one to disrupt the flow of scientific progress, he asks him “Want me to order for you, Carlos? Then you can investigate this, while I get us some frozen yogurt.”

Carlos replies with a distracted, “Yeah,” already in science mode. He pulls out his portable recorder, small thermometer, ruler, and a black humming box that he keeps with him just in case. As Cecil walks away, gold platform shoes clicking on the cement, Carlos calls out to him, “But don’t get me anything that ends in the words, ‘blood, lumps, or cartilage’.”

Cecil frowns. “But that eliminates all the best flavors!” Carlos is too far gone in his science to answer him. So Cecil enters the shop thinking he may get Carlos something simple like BROWNSTONE SPIRE BROWN. That might be good.

Cecil is gone for no more than a minute when Carlos, standing hunched over the crack, is almost knocked off his feet as a cloaked creature barrels into him. He feels its ice cold hands caressing his face and sides. He catches a quick glimpse of the thing’s face. It downright terrifies him. The creature is speaking to him, saying… something. Carlos can’t make out the words or even if they’re in English. But they sound soft and sweet and have no place coming out the creature’s mouth, with its twisted smile full of sharp fangs. He tries to shove the cloaked being away, using all his strength, but despite being semi-skeletal it possesses a surprising strength and doesn’t budge. Carlos then tries to retreat, putting as much distance between the creature and himself as possible, but trips over the crack in space-time and falls to the sandy ground. The creature jumps on top of him, touching him, and whispering more saccharine-laced words into his ear. That’s when Carlos realizes it’s speaking Spanish.

His first coherent thought is to be offended. He hates the fact that just because he is Hispanic, everyone expects him to know Spanish. He grew up in Connecticut, for crying out loud! The only Spanish he knows are things that his Grandmother used to yell at him like, _“¡Mi cocina no es un laboratorio!”_ And _“¡Para de hacer experimentos científicos!”_ And _“¡Mi cuarto de baño no es un laboratorio tampoco!”_

He is torn from these thoughts, as the man – yes, he decides that this thing is or used to be a man - tries to kiss him. “UGH! Get away!” Carlos shoves him again but it’s hopeless.

The man is now repeating something over and over. He is saying, “Anton! Anton! Mi amor, Anton!”

“Anton? Hey, buddy, you got the wrong-“

Before he can finish his sentence a faster-than-human blur picks the cloaked creature off of Carlos and tackles him to the ground. It is Cecil. He pins the other man to the ground with his tentacles and wraps his bare hands around his throat, screaming “You foul doppelganger!! You vile creature!! Attacking me is one thing. But attacking my beloved Carlos? No way.”

Kevin struggles weakly against this strangely familiar man who had taken him away from his Anton. But his adrenaline is quickly failing. And the perceived rejection from Anton has sapped what little energy he has left. 

Khoshekh, having escaped once more from his floating prison, is following Kevin’s scent when he hears the commotion. Upon seeing his master flailing on the ground, with some multi-armed beast in a sweater vest attacking him, Khoshekh lets out a roar. He then flies at the creature and bites down on one of its many appendages as hard as he can, causing it to release a scream of pain.

Carlos, still half-sitting on the ground nearby, has been watching all of this in a state of shock. Hearing his boyfriend howl in pain finally snaps him out of it. Cecil’s free tentacles are now attempting to restrain the dog who viciously keeps snapping at them, while hovering just out of reach. Cecil’s hands never leave Kevin’s neck.

Carlos jumps to his feet and clears his throat, saying in his loudest, most authoritative I-AM-A-SCIENTIST-AND-IF-YOU-DON’T-LISTEN-TO-ME-YOU-WILL-DIE-HORRIBLY voice, “Everybody stop right now!”

And, much to his surprise, they do. Well, except for Kevin, who has already passed out from lack of air. Cecil tentatively relaxes his grip. Even Khoshekh pauses, since the dark-skinned man smells and looks enough like Anton that he feels compelled to obey. Anton always brought him the best treats when he was stuck in the men’s bathroom.

Carlos’s first priority is to his boyfriend. “Are you okay, Cecil?” Carlos kneels down next to Cecil, who is currently straddling the unconscious Kevin.

“Of course. I mean, I’m fairly certain I am. Like 80%. Maybe 70%”

Carlos frowns and sticks out his hand, palm up. Reluctantly, Cecil sets the injured tentacle in it, letting out a hiss of pain when it touches Carlos’s skin. The scientist examines it. “The bite didn’t go all the way through, but it is a nasty-looking one. We need to take you to my lab to properly clean and dress it.” Carlos had no medical training upon arriving at Night Vale, but thankfully, for himself and Cecil, he has been a very quick study.

Cecil cannot stop staring at the face of his double. Carlos looks to, barely restraining a shudder. “So this-” Carlos gestures at the cloaked man below them, “thing. He’s your double?” he questions incredulously.

Cecil nods, angry and ashamed that something connected to him could harm Carlos in any way.

“Are you sure? He barely looks human-er-humanoid,” he says, catching himself before making a possibly offensive remark. “And he doesn’t really look like you at all.”

“It’s him. I’ll admit this horrid beast looks much worse than when I had the unfortunate happenstance to bump into him, more than a year ago, but it’s him. I never forget a face, even if I desperately want to. What are we going to do with him?” Cecil’s hands twitch like they are ready to grab his double’s throat again.

Carlos notices this and gently puts his hand on Cecil’s. “Look, Cecil, it’s really sweet of you to defend me and all.” Cecil blushes at the praise. “But what have I said to you about people who might accidently bump into me at Ralph’s Market or who might honk at me while driving?”

Cecil looks at his double and then back at Carlos in complete shock. “But this is completely different! He was practically molesting you,” he protests, his words literally dripping acid that fall and begin to burn small holes in Kevin’s cloak.

Carlos shakes his head, not to be deterred. “What have I said?”

“But he’s my double! And he’s evil! I told you all about the viscera on his desk and all of the blood everywhere!”

Carlos does not respond, waiting for Cecil to answer his question.

Finally, Cecil breaks down and, in his most downtrodden and pouty voice says, “You said if I hurt, killed, or elicited vigilante justice against someone who did something negative to you that you would…you would…CUTOFFYOUROWNHAIR!!! But Carloooos! That is so not fair!”

“That’s the rule. Now stop killing your double and help me take him to my lab.” Carlos pulls Cecil off of the unconscious Kevin. Cecil gives him a hard kick with his shoe, before releasing Kevin’s limbs from his tentacles.

“Did you even write the necessary 70-page dissertation on proper scissor use to get an approved pair of scissors from the City Council?” Cecil asks in a vaguely condescending manner.

Carlos shakes his head. “No, ever since the town mandated that dance was the official language, I gave the necessary 15-minute interpretative dance on proper scissor use. And it was amazing.” He smiles smugly.

Of course, perfect Carlos is perfect at bribery, Cecil reasons. And in a haughty tone he says, “You are very unattractive when you manipulate me, you know?”

Carlos just laughs and pecks him on the cheek, as if he had said something endearing.

He walks over to Kevin’s prone form and the dog lets out a low growl. “Hey, boy, I am only gonna take him back to my lab to try and help him, okay?” He lets the dog sniff his hand, which satisfies him and he hovers back a few feet, watching.

As Carlos bends down to pick up Kevin, Cecil jumps in front of him. “No, let me. If someone has to touch my double, I would rather it be me than you.”

Carlos gives him a dubious look. “Okay, but no ‘accidentally’ dropping him on the way to the lab.”

Cecil grumbles under his breath but picks up Kevin anyway. Together they walk toward Carlos’s lab with Khoshekh hovering closely behind them.


End file.
